I tried editing one of the poems I had written previously. It still needs a lot of work, but this is what I've got for now.
I’m two inches long, I have five black and shiny silver stripes,
I look like a zebra, but I can’t live on land.
I can’t forage for my own food,
I take the only brine shrimp I’m given morning and night.
All I’ve got is a five by ten inch tank.
I just move around this insignificant space,
forcing myself to socialize with the females around me.
They look exactly like me, smell exactly like me,
move around exactly like me, I can’t help but yawn.
But once in a way if the I’m really lucky,
the creatures in the long white coats will take me out,
and put me with a boy.
I’m only given one night to spend.
There’s no time for cuddling, there’s only action.
It flashes by that I hardly remember the details,
and at the first sign of light, those creatures come back.
They come with a net, forcing me away,
and I say good bye
to my one night stand.
I never see my babies,
those creatures always take them away.
One day I watched them in the next room,
cutting and chopping the lives created,
with no regard or sign of distress.
They say I’m a super fish,
they say I am a scientific breakthrough.
I say, we are guinea pigs,
for what they can’t do to themselves.
They say we look grumpy.
Well, tell me why wouldn’t we?
No comments:
Post a Comment